


Apple Juice, Baths, and Tomato Rice Soup

by silenceisscreaming



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sick Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-22
Updated: 2015-09-22
Packaged: 2018-04-22 22:24:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4852799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silenceisscreaming/pseuds/silenceisscreaming
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sammy is sick and needs his big brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Apple Juice, Baths, and Tomato Rice Soup

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. Obviously.

Sam came to a conclusion about fifteen seconds after waking up. He felt like death. He wasn't quite sick yet but he could feel it slowly creeping over him like a mixture of lava and glacier. He groaned when he realized he was going to have a sore throat and therefore a cough sometime within the next 36 hours. He was already phlegmy and his head was beginning to pound.

He could hear Dean in the shower only a few feet from Sam's bed so Sam forced himself to sit up, fighting the wave of dizziness that hit him. He dragged himself to the kitchenette sink and grabbed a glass of water, which he chugged in one go and immediately refilled. The cold water felt amazing on his scratchy throat. He was on his third glass when Dean opened the bathroom door in nothing but a towel, water dripping over his sculpted chest and down under the towel at his hips.

"Morning, Sammy!" he said enthusiastically and Sam groaned as his headache worsened at his brother's loud voice. "You okay?" Dean asked when he saw Sam's pained expression.

"Yeah, just a headache," Sam replied mildly. He didn't want to alert Dean to the fact that he was sick. Dean gave him a skeptical look but dropped it. He rifled through his duffel bag pulling out some clothes, dropped his towel shamelessly, and began to pull on his dry clothes. 

Sam rolled his eyes despite having stared at the length of Dean's body the entire time, and decided a shower would be a good idea. Maybe the steam would make him feel better. After closing the bathroom door he stripped and turned the shower on.

Sam silently thanked Dean for leaving him some hot water as he stepped in. Bliss. The water streamed over his sore muscles and massaged his back leaving him feeling relaxed. He scrubbed his hair clean and ran the small bar of soap over his body, ignoring Dean's voice yelling at him to hurry up.

When he was done, he turned the water off and grabbed the last towel before stepping out of the shower. He was forced to grab hold of the sink as a fresh wave of vertigo hit him.

"Damn it," he grumbled. He knew if this got any worse he would have to tell Dean. He couldn't go hunting if he was always a step away from passing out. 

He exited the bathroom, shivering when the colder air hit his naked skin. Dean turned around at the table, coffee in hand.

"About time. Hurry up and get dressed. We gotta go," he said as his eyes raked over his brother's form. He reluctantly turned back to Sam's laptop when Sam gave him the bitchface and Sam quickly pulled on his clothes adding an extra layer to help him stay warm.

\----

Later, after they had talked to their witness about the girl who had gone missing, they stopped at a diner for lunch. Sam decided he could probably use some vitamin C so he ordered orange juice along with a fruit salad and yogurt. Dean had his customary bacon cheeseburger. When their food arrived, Dean took one look at Sam's plate and said, "You're sick, aren't you?"

Sam looked up at him in shock.

"Come on, Sam, it's obvious. Orange juice, fruit. And earlier with the witness, your voice was getting kind of raspy. And you had a headache this morning. Admit it, you're sick."

Sam was actually impressed by how well Dean paid attention. He knew he shouldn’t be surprised, Dean was always looking out for him but normally, Dean was completely unobservant so the amount of focus he had on Sam was abnormal.

"Okay, I'm sick. But it's no big deal, I'm fine," Sam told him. Dean didn't look convinced but he let it go. Sam knew he'd bring it up again later anyway.

\----

Sure enough, as soon as they got to the Impala, Dean grabbed Sam's arm and stopped him from getting in.

"Hold on a second. I want to check something." Sam was confused until Dean pulled out their med kit from the trunk.

"Dean, come on. I told you, I'm fine," Sam whined as Dean took out the thermometer. 

"Oh yeah? Well I'm not inclined to believe you when you're sick. Come on, open up."

With a glare Sam took the thermometer and stuck it under his tongue. After the allotted time Dean took it back and checked it.

"100.2. Not too bad right now but we'll check again later."

Sam sighed but didn't argue, nor did he fight it when Dean gently ran his hand through Sam's hair, pulling it out of his face.

"Alright, Sasquatch, let's check out that building where the girl disappeared."

\----

When they got back to the hotel later that night Sam collapsed down into the couch. He was thankful that he wasn't feeling any worse but he knew that it would be a different story in the morning.

His body was still sore. He'd fallen asleep on the short drive back and his neck was stiff. He watched Dean go over to the kitchen table with a bag in his hands. He set it down and pulled out a bottle of whiskey. He looked over at Sam.

"You want any?" he asked.

Sam considered it before shaking his head. Alcohol wouldn't help whatever it was he had. Dean nodded and pulled something else from the bag and tossed it to Sam. Sam caught it and held it up.

"Apple juice? Dean, I'm not six," he mocked halfheartedly. He was actually touched that his brother had thought to get him some.

"Yeah well, they were all out of orange when I stopped for gas and it couldn't hurt," Dean explained. Sam smiled.

"Thanks."

Dean got himself a glass of whiskey before maneuvering over to the couch. He pulled Sam's legs off the couch and sat down, allowing Sam's legs to lie across his lap.

Sam picked up the remote off the coffee table and handed it to Dean who gave him a look.

"You don't wanna pick something?" Normally Dean let Sam choose what they watched. Partially because Sam hardly ever watched TV and partially so he could bitch about whatever Sam picked.

"Nah, I'm going to end up falling asleep anyway," Sam replied taking a mouthful of juice straight from the container.

"Then why not go to bed?" Dean asked raising his brow at Sam. He picked a random channel that was showing an old Star Trek movie and placed the remote back on the table before looking back at Sam. 

"I'm comfortable," Sam finally answered with a shrug, nestling his long legs further into his brother's space. Dean grinned and raised his hand to Sam's chest and let it rest there. Sam placed his hand over Dean's as his eyes started to slide closed. 

Dean relaxed into the couch and made a mental note not to forget what else he'd gotten at the store. Kleenex, vapo-rub, cough syrup, NyQuil, and Tylenol. He was set for the next week in regards to taking care of his brother. The current hunt had only a sliver of Dean’s attention in comparison to Sam.

\---- 

A couple hours later Sam and Dean were still on the couch. Dean was on the verge of dozing while Sam had been out the entire time. Dean jolted awake when he heard Sam let out a pained noise. His face was scrunched up and his hair was matted to his forehead. Dean slid out from under Sam’s legs and knelt by his brother’s head. He pulled away the strands of hair and laid the back of his hand over Sam’s forehead.

“Shit,” Dean exclaimed as he got up to get the thermometer. Sam’s temperature had risen to 104.6°F. Dean’s brother instinct took over. He shook Sam gently, attempting to wake him up so he could move him to the bed. 

“Sammy, come on, little brother. You need to wake up, Sam.”

Sam slowly opened his eyes, his gaze unfocused and foggy. Dean pulled him into a sitting position before using all his strength to lift his moose of a brother to his feet. He half carried, half dragged Sam over to the bed, the one furthest from the door, before gently dropping him down on it. Sam violently shivered as his body relaxed into the mattress and Dean pulled up the comforter and settled it over his brother. 

Sam rolled to his side in an attempt to get comfortable and Dean ran to the bathroom to grab a washcloth, which he soaked until it was cool and damp, and a glass of water.

He returned to Sam’s side and prodded him again.

“Sam? You need to drink some water okay? Then you can go back to sleep,” Dean prompted. Sam responded groggily, completely out of it as Dean lifted the cup to his mouth. He drank and swallowed and Dean let him sink back down. When Sam was asleep again Dean took the washcloth and ran it over Sam’s forehead, wiping away the sweat. He then decided that Sam would be more comfortable not sleeping in his jeans and jacket so he pulled back the comforter and struggled to strip his brother. The boots and jeans were easy but the jacket and flannel shirt were a bitch. Dean didn’t want to wake Sam so he maneuvered carefully, pulling the material off as slowly as he could. Sam shifted and let out a light groan but didn’t wake up. 

When Sam was down to his boxers and undershirt, Dean piled Sam’s clothes on top of his duffel bag and pulled the comforter back up over Sam’s shoulders. For a moment, Dean just looked as his brother. His lips lifted up with fondness and he reached out a hand to run his fingers through Sam’s soft hair. Subconsciously, Sam leaned into the caress.

Dean let out a yawn. It had been a long day and he wanted nothing more than to collapse next to Sam and sleep for about twelve hours but he couldn’t yet. He wouldn’t be able to sleep until Sam’s fever came down to a more reasonable temperature. He rinsed the washcloth and brought it back to his brother, laying it over Sam’s brow. After grabbing a magazine from the coffee table, Dean climbed onto the bed next to Sam and sat with his back against the headboard. He let his hand fall back down to Sam’s hair as he flipped through the magazine absently. 

\---- 

When Dean was finished with the magazine, he tossed it on the side table and reached over Sam to where he’d placed the thermometer. He placed it in Sam’s slack mouth and under his tongue. This time when he checked it, Sam’s temperature was back down to 101.3°F. Dean let out a relieved breath and got up to get Sam some more water. He refilled the glass and then returned to the bed, gently shaking Sam awake.

“Sam, wake up. You need to drink some more water,” he prompted.

Sam groaned and reluctantly opened his eyes. He looked tired but focused.

“D’n?” he mumbled.

“Yeah Sam. Your fever broke but you need to drink some water,” Dean replied holding out the glass. Sam reached out to take it, allowing Dean to steady his shaking hand as he took a few mouthfuls.

“Atta boy. Okay, you can go back to sleep now,” Dean said placing the glass back on the table.

“D’n, w’ you stay wi’ me?” Sam said softly. Dean almost didn’t understand what he said but he knew that look.

“Sure, Sam.”

He climbed up on the bed beside Sam and slid under the covers, molding himself to Sam’s back and wrapping his arms around his brother’s waist. Sam nestled back into Dean’s embrace and smiled, already dozing off.

“Night,” Sam whispered.

“Goodnight, Sammy,” Dean answered just as softly, placing a gentle kiss on his brother’s temple and tightening his arms.

\---- 

Dean woke up to the sound of Sam coughing. There was bright sunshine coming in through the thin curtains of the windows, which told him it was late morning. He sat up and found Sam coming out of the bathroom looking like hell. 

“Morning,” he said gruffly. Sam just sniffed at him and grabbed a Kleenex from the box he had found in Dean’s supply bag. “How are you feeling?”

“Abou’ as bad as I loogh,” Sam replied miserably. He sounded awful. He collapsed back down on the bed and buried his face in the pillow. He stayed like that for only a minute until he had to turn his head to breathe. 

“Do you want some cough syrup?”

“Doh, I already took sobe,” Sam replied. Dean smiled to himself after hearing Sam speak. Poor guy really was sick.

“You should probably eat something. Do you want me to run and get you a sandwich, or something?” Sam shook his head.

“I do’t thik I coud keeb it dowd. I’b feelig dauseous,” Sam answered.

“Do you want some more juice then?” Dean asked not knowing what to do for his brother at the moment.

“Sure. When are you leavig?” 

“Leaving? Leaving where?” Dean was confused.

“The case? Deab, you said you thought it was a vabpire. Are’t you goib to try and track it dowd?” Sam asked whilst blowing his nose. Until now, Dean had completely forgotten about the case. Even now, he didn’t want to leave Sam while he was sick but he couldn’t just leave the vamp to attack more innocent girls.

“Right. Um, okay I’ll go right now,” he said, handing Sam a glass of juice. Sam took it gratefully and took a mouthful, allowing it to soothe his sore throat. Dean set the glass on the side table and sat on the edge of the bed.

“Are you going to be okay?” he asked, his hand stroking over Sam’s back.

“Yeah, I’ll be fibe,” Sam said smiling up at him lazily before letting out another cough. Dean rubbed his back until the coughing subsided. Before he got up, he leaned over and kissed Sam’s shoulder.

“Get some rest. I’ll try and be back soon.” He stood up and changed into some clean clothes since he’d slept in his. He grabbed some coffee and was out the door.

\---- 

Dean drove the Impala to the warehouse that he and Sam suspected the vampire was using as a base. He parked a couple blocks away and walked the rest of the way, wanting to keep quiet so as not to alert the monster. He paused in front of the back door of the warehouse and pulled out his machete. The door creaked slightly as Dean pulled it open but there were no signs that the vampire had heard.

Dean slowly made his way into the warehouse, being extra cautious since he didn’t have Sam to watch his back. He checked every corner and crevice and eventually found a back room with the door slightly ajar. He tightened his grip on the handle of the machete and took the last step up to the door. He peered in through the crack but the room was shrouded in shadows. Dean could hear the soft sound of breathing signaling that the vampire was asleep. He pushed open the door, silently this time, and crept into the room. The vampire was lying face down on the grungy mattress in the center of the room. There were ragged curtains covering the window and the room was outlined in dirt. 

Dean stood over the mattress trying to decide what the best angle would be to kill this thing. He stepped over to the far side and raised the machete above the creature’s neck. Just as he moved to swing the knife down, the vampire jumped up with a yell and threw him against the wall. Dean grunted heavily but didn’t lose his grip on the machete. The creature had him pinned at the neck and Dean was struggling to breathe. He tried to bring the machete down on his captor’s arm but the vampire grabbed his wrist with his free hand and slammed Dean’s arm into the wall, forcing him to release his grip on the knife. 

Normally this would be the moment where Sam rushed in to save him but Dean knew that he was on his own this time. He brought his leg up and kneed the vampire in the groin, causing him to fall back a few steps and release Dean’s neck. Dean dived to the floor in an effort to get the machete back but the vampire grabbed his leg, twisted him over onto his back and dragged him away.

Dean used his free foot to kick the vampire in the knee and then, when the vamp doubled over, in his face. In the few seconds he had, Dean grabbed the machete and brought it down on the vampire’s neck. The head fell to the ground with a thump. Dean collapsed against the wall and breathed heavily. He had to admit that for a vampire, the guy had gone down fairly easily. 

Dean pulled himself away from the wall with a grunt and made his way out of the warehouse, favoring his left leg. He hobbled to the Impala and fell into the drivers seat. He turned the ignition and pulled into the street, heading toward the grocery store. Sam would be starving by now.

\---- 

When Dean finally returned to the hotel room, limping a bit and cradling his right wrist, he pushed the door open quietly in case Sam was asleep. What he found, however, was Sam tossing and turning and moaning in distress on the bed furthest from the door. Dean immediately forgot about his own pain and rushed over to his brother, dropping the bag from the grocery store to the floor. Placing a hand on Sam’s furrowed brow, he felt the heat pulsating outward. The fever had returned then. Dean petted Sam’s hair out of his face and tried to wake his brother up.

“Sammy, wake up, Man. Come on, I need to get you in a cold shower. You gotta wake up, Sam,” he pleaded. Sam remained asleep. “Dammit.”

Dean pulled the covers off Sam’s sweat soaked body and pulled his brother into a sitting position, letting Sam’s head fall against his shoulder. Dean then maneuvered Sam’s legs so he was sitting on the edge of the bed before pulling him up to stand, leaning heavily against Dean. He dragged Sam to the bathroom, ignoring his own injuries, and carefully set Sam down in the bathtub before pulling off Sam’s undershirt and boxers. He turned the shower on and allowed it to stay cold, the water rushing over Sam’s body making Sam jump awake.

Sam looked around frantically, his eyes jumping over Dean. He focused on a spot behind Dean briefly before turning his head to look at something else.

“Dean?” he whispered desperately.

“I’m right here, Sam,” Dean replied placing his hand on Sam’s arm. Sam, however, didn’t seem to hear him.

“DEAN!” Sam shouted. He sounded horribly scared and Dean’s heart clenched at hearing that tone in his brother’s voice. He placed his hand on Sam’s drenched head and petted his hair comfortingly.

“Shh, Sammy. I’m here; I’ve got you. It’s okay, baby boy,” Dean babbled hoping that his brother would hear him and calm down. Eventually Sam’s cries quieted and he began to shiver so Dean turned off the water and got Sam a towel. He dried as much of Sam’s skin as he could while he was still in the bathtub but then had to pull Sam out. It was a difficult task but he managed. He sat Sam on the toilet and dried the rest of him before dragging him to the bed Sam hadn’t been sweating all over. He laid Sam down and pulled just the sheet over him.

Dean then stripped off his own clothes, finally feeling the painful pull of his leg and wrist. He checked himself over, finding no bleeding or brokenness. He was just sore and bruised. He’d live. Right now, Sam was more important. He crawled under the sheet beside Sam and laid a hand on his brother’s chest, feeling the strong heartbeat through the still heated skin. Sam wasn’t as hot as he had been so Dean was relieved. Sam was partly asleep, his eyes dangerously close to being fully closed. He was whining though, a soft keening sound that sounded distressed. So Dean did what he had always done when Sam was upset.

“Hey Jude, don’t make it bad. Take a sad song and make it better,” he sang. “Remember, to let her into your heart. Then you can start to make it better.”

At the familiar melody and words, Sam quieted. He shifted closer to Dean, nuzzling his face into Dean’s neck.

“Hey Jude, don’t be afraid. You were made to go out and get her. The minute you let her under your skin, then you begin to make it better. And any time you feel the pain, hey Jude, refrain. Don’t carry the world upon your shoulders.”

Dean pulled Sam closer to him, wrapping an arm around his back and drawing his head to his chest. He placed a comforting kiss on Sam’s forehead and continued to sing the lullaby his mother had sung to him.

“For well you know that it’s the fool who plays it cool, by making his world a little colder. Na na na na na na na na naa. Hey Jude, don’t let me down. You have found her, now go and get her. Let it out and let it in. Remember to let her into your heart, then you can start to make it better. Na na na na na na na.”

Dean continued to hum the Beatles song as Sam’s breathing evened out and he drifted into sleep. The song had always succeeded in calming Sammy down and reminding him that Dean was there, keeping him safe. 

\---- 

Sam woke up with a splitting headache. His head was pillowed on Dean’s chest and Dean had his arms wrapped tightly around Sam. Sam would have loved to stay there but his bladder wouldn’t let him. He inched his way out of Dean’s embrace and walked into the bathroom, avoiding the mirror at all costs. He didn’t want to see what he looked like right now. He finished peeing and went to wash his hands. He distantly heard Dean getting up and moving around the kitchen. 

Sam opened the bathroom door to the sight of Dean holding a cup of coffee. He turned at the sound of the door and looked Sam up and down.

“You look a little better,” he commented taking a sip of coffee. Sam moved to sit at the table.

“I don’t feel much better,” Sam replied with a groan. Dean nodded and turned to the stove where Sam could see a pot. 

“Are you making me soup?” he asked. He sounded better today; less stuffed up.

“Of course not. This is for me,” Dean said with a smirk. He ladled out a bowl and put it on the table in front of Sam. “You haven’t eaten much and you aren’t going to get better if you’re hungry, so eat.”

Sam smiled softly, basking in his brother’s care. He picked up the spoon from the bowl and was about to tuck into the soup when he noticed something.

“Dean, is this tomato rice soup?” he asked quietly. Dean turned around from where he was cleaning the pot he’d used.

“Yeah, so? You love tomato rice soup,” Dean answered. Sam nodded. He knew that when Dean was little their mom would make him tomato rice soup when he was sick. And Dean had always done the same for him because of that. Sam always felt better after eating it but it had been years since Dean had thought to get him the soup. Sam’s eyes welled up a bit and he fought to hold back his tears. It had always amazed him how easily his brother could say I love you without using words. 

“Woah, hey, why are you crying? What’s wrong?” Dean asked sounding worried.

Sam smiled softly. “Nothing, don’t worry. I’m fine. Actually I’m better than fine.”

“Yeah?” Dean said skeptically. Sam nodded and went back to eating his soup. Dean sat down across from him with his own bowl. They ate in companionable silence and when they were done, Dean stood up to put their bowls in the sink. Sam stood up slowly, hoping to avoid a head rush and took the few steps up to his brother who was just turning away from the sink. He startled when he saw how close Sam was but didn’t move away when Sam wrapped his arms around Dean’s shoulders and buried his face in Dean’s neck. Dean’s arms came up to wrap around him and pull him closer into Dean’s body.

“Thank you,” Sam whispered. “For everything.”

“Ah, hey, you don’t have to thank me. It’s my job remember? Take care of my pain in the ass little brother,” Dean replied with a laugh.

Sam smiled. “Yeah, I know. But still, thanks.”

Dean pulled away, but only enough to allow him to kiss Sam softly. Sam responded instantly, opening his mouth and kissing back almost desperately. Dean slid his hand up Sam’s back to his neck and ran his fingers through Sam’s hair. Sam pulled away to breathe, resting his forehead against Dean’s. 

“I hate being sick. It’s harder to kiss you,” Sam said miserably. Dean chuckled.

“Yeah, well, you probably just infected me so thanks for that.”

“Sorry,” Sam said but he sounded anything but sorry. “Did you get the vampire?”

“Yup, guy went down like Jesse Ventura. It was weird.”

“Maybe you were just lucky.”

“Yeah, maybe.” 

Just then, Dean’s cell phone rang. He picked it up and answered it. He spoke to the person on the other end for a minute before hanging up.

“That was Bobby. He’s got a case for us. Probable werewolf in Minnesota. You up for it?”

“Yeah, I think so. Might need some more soup first, though.”

Dean smirked and kissed Sam again before going to pack his duffle bag. Sam did the same and they soon had everything in the Impala. Sam sunk into the passenger seat and immediately situated himself into the most comfortable position for napping. Dean pulled his door closed and started the car, smiling at the purr of his baby’s engine. He looked over at Sam, already asleep, and smiled again. Man, he loved that kid. He turned on the radio and pulled out of the hotel’s parking lot and headed east, Elton John singing softly in the background.


End file.
